


IM Spotter

by Gyptian



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Avengers Feels, Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Next Generation, POV Outsider, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyptian/pseuds/Gyptian
Summary: Floriana has headed up the IM Spotter club, New York branch for years, in a certain cafe with a very good view of Stark Tower. Never has she dreamed of having such a special guest, however.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 124
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2018, Tony Stark Bingo 2020





	IM Spotter

**Author's Note:**

> Tony Stark Bingo Round 3 - Card 3025 - Square A3 (Free)
> 
> With deep thanks to [beyond-myreach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyondmyreach/pseuds/beyondmyreach) for betaing this fic and steering me clear of many writer blindspots.

Snow had mercifully not yet covered the New York streets, though the blustery wind made grabby hands at everything and took all the warmth away. It would have made Floriana’s trek to the cafe quite difficult. Each step was an effort when the pavement turned slick, even if an Uber managed to drop her off before the building door. And old bones didn’t mend easily.

Floriana fumbled with her slick red reusable shopping bag as she opened the weighed door. The breeze bumped it against her leg, which already ached from arthritis. The spits of rain were growing chilly. She really should look up her thermal underwear. She stepped into the blast of heated air with a sigh of relief.

She smiled and waved at Beth as she made her way to the back. The barista moved to make her half-caf almond-milk sugar-free cinnamon latte, Floriana's autumn drink for the past decade. She walked out onto the terrace, biting her lip. Setting up for the IM Spotter meeting would warm her right up, she told herself.

She put the hot-rod red bag – most of its gold accents had worn off – on one of the round tables and started dragging all eight tables into one big grouping. She put down cardboard squares to cover the gaps, so no one would put their coffee down on empty air. She laid red cotton tablecloths – machine washable – over the whole. There, one big table. The golden doilies Cherise had crocheted brightened up the centre. She put poinsettias on top of them. Finally, she laid out the sign-in sheet and the hat and snippets for their secret santa.

“Aren't you going to be cold out here, love? You're a bit early for brunch,” Beth asked. She placed the twelve ounce mug straight into Floriana's outstretched hands, steam curling off the top.

She inhaled its sweet spice, before muttering, “It's all for a good cause.” She'd come here every week without fail for seven years to prepare for the club's Sunday Brunch. They only skipped Christmas and once on Independence Day. Even when it was a disappointing meeting, being amongst good friends was enough to send her home with a warm heart and a little hope for the world.

Beth nodded and left her as Floriana pulled up the crossword on her cellphone. Terribly addictive, and it was important to keep sharp at her age.

Gradually, people trickled in.

Patrick showed off the fingerless gloves he'd finished from a pattern Debby had lent him, bright red with golden knuckles and wrist, subtle enough to be mistaken for seasonal wear. Then he showed his palms. He'd managed to find fluorescent blue wool to embroider circles onto his palms. It earned him a smattering of applause.

Cherry had brought along Mark II cupcakes and got compliments for incorporating the classic design, which she'd based off old press photos.

Floriana counted heads, tallied faces. All but one of the sixteen regular members were there and three irregulars. A small group, but then it was chilly and the news was Himself was out of town.

No matter. They met up, rain, shine or alien invasion. Beth came out with a tray full of spiced cider, and a stranger trailing behind her in a cap and Stark-esque sunglasses. She indicated the club with a sweeping gesture, for him, before turning to the members. She held up the full tray. “On the house,” she announced to an all-round cheer.

Mindful of her duties as a host, Floriana shuffled over to the new fellow, who had retreated to the side table where the cupcakes stood. “Very accurate rendition of the original arc reactor. My compliments to the baker,” he said, snapping a picture.

She murmured an agreement. “We do ask that you tag pictures #IMSpottersNY, if you share them.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “You're welcome to join us, it's an open meeting. Just be sure to mention the table when you order with Beth. You can leave a donation if you like and your email if you want the newsletter.” She peered at him when he continued to stare at his phone. Rude or lacking social skills? Hard to tell with the young ones, these days. “I'm Floriana.”

He put his phone – the latest Stark model, she approved – in a pocket and turned to her with one corner of his mouth curling up. Oh that beard was _very_ like. He must've gone to a good barber or have a dab hand shaving himself. Edie still wasn't satisfied they'd gotten it right and they'd been trying for seven weeks now.

All of a sudden, his sunglasses dissolved into this air. The hand that flew up to cover her mouth did nothing to hide her squeal, as he stuck out his hand and said, “Stark. Tony Stark.”

Silence fell. Thank God it was only the club out on the terrace at noon on a November Sunday. They'd seen her fangirl before.

Oh that _man._ She'd never dared to dream...

Floriana stumbled forward to shake his hand vigorously with both of hers. “I – so pleased. Very pleased.”

Her cheeks heated at his handsome grin – oh! From the corner of her eye, she saw Cherry fanning herself. Patrick wolf-whistled.

Inevitably, everyone lined up to shake his hand and take pictures, including Beth, when she came out to check on them. She groaned when Mr. Stark called her “Cap's little waitress.”

Clearly, word on Cap’s favourite cafe had gotten around even among the Avengers. Well. It did have the best view of Stark Tower.

“I only just got rid of that nickname. Six years!” They had a good laugh at poor Beth's expense, Beth included.

He sat down with them and indulged them in answering their myriad questions, seeming to enjoy the off-the-wall ones the most. He even showed them the nanite container, shining Starkium blue. To recharge the armour, he explained. He politely declined to suit up.

At ten o' clock, the time they'd normally start to scan the skies for him out on one of his more routine patrols, his phone went off, blasting Black Sabbath across the terrace. Everybody stared at him in askance. He stood up, now taking his hat off as well.

He turned in the direction of Stark Tower, eyes shining. Everyone turned with him, without quite knowing why. Habit made people grab notebooks or tap their phones to record. He aimed his own phone at the sky. “Anytime now,” he said to them, or maybe to someone else, since an earpiece was the least of what these nanites could become for him.

Floriana blinked, her mind whirling with the possibilities of such technologies, now she'd seen it up close. She'd _have_ to organise discussion night about the latest armour soon. Grace and Kwabena did such thorough research and put together such wonderful presentations.

Thus distracted, she almost missed what made the rest gasp. Her head shot up.

Spiderman's silhouette came flying down the streets in lazy arcs, shooting threads to either side. When he crossed overhead he let go, descending with a series of flashy jumps. He high-fived Mr. Stark when his feet touched the ground.

“Points for style, kid,” said Mr .Stark, clapping Spiderman's shoulder.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark!” He looked around, the shape of his mask's eyes changing as if they were real. It must be more technology. Designed by Mr. Stark? By them both? Floriana wondered, agog. “Uh, who are these people?” asked Spiderman.

Mr. Stark moved to stand behind Spiderman with both hands on his shoulders. Oh, such a nice pair. Floriana pressed a hand to her chest, near to tears.

“Spiderman, meet my oldest fan club, the IM Spotters, both in years they've been around and average age. Uh.” He looked to the club. “Fans, meet, well, the first of the next generation of Avengers.” He grinned benevolently over the shoulder of his protege. “Figured this'd make the best sort of introduction. No muss, no fuss, no ridiculous demands, and good people who will spread the word without malice.”

“Uhm.” Edie raised their hand.

“Yes, you with the beard. _Nice_ beard, by the way.” Mr. Stark pointed at them.

With some stammering, Edie finally blurted out, “Thanks. Uhm. But. Spiderman's already an Avenger, isn't he? And he's already helped a lot of people. Saved my cousin from a bank robbery last year.” Spiderman stood straighter at that, waving and making them grumble-squeak. Bless. Voice hadn't quite finished dropping.

“Yeah. Uh.” Mr. Stark blinked. “I, ah, well. I'm stepping back. He's stepping up more, so. A passing-the-torch announcement seemed apropos.” He scratched his head. “I can see why it'd be confusing.” He turned to Spiderman, who was staring at Mr. Stark wide-eyed. “Too low-key, kid? Press conference? Superhero debutante ball? Masked ball? Coming out party?”

Floriana snorted at the bewildered Spiderman. “He's not exactly a debutante.” She stepped forward. “We're...” What to say? She felt like she was dreaming. “We're honoured to share this moment with you.” Yes, that seemed alright, because it earned her a heartstopper of a smile. Oh, she'd be sitting down and replaying this moment later.

“Welcome, Spiderman,” said Patrick and started a round of applause that turned raucous. They descended to shake Spiderman's hand as they had Tony's. Then they took group pictures. Turned out Mr Stark could make his camera hover to take a picture at ten paces, so they could all be in it. Even Beth, brilliant Beth, who brought out flutes... of apple juice.

“To Mr. Stark!” said Spiderman, lifting a glass.

“To Spiderman,” the older man countered.

“To the future,” said Floriana.

“To the Avengers,” chimed in Patrick.

“To New York, may it stand protected in years to come!” exclaimed Edie.

“Amen to that,” avowed Cherry and everyone drank deep.

Mr. Stark came to find her to say goodbye, after they'd had brunch with the two heroes. The rest sprawled in chairs, replete with food and bundled up in thick coats. No one was making a move to leave. “Thank you for letting me crash your party,” he said conspiratorially.

Spiderman was in deep discussion with Kwabena and Edie about the photos and film they had taken turns making. Everyone had posed with Mr. Stark and Spiderman. They’d also filmed a short clip, a few takes, of Mr. Stark introducing Spiderman as his successor. The bolder members could be seen applauding. Edie had elected to film. 

This was going to be breaking news. Grace had been faint at the idea that they, amateurs, were allowed to spread the word. Mr. Stark had reassured them that they had been thoroughly vetted by Friday. Kwabena had told him off for doing a background check without permission. To his credit, Mr. Stark had actually listened, where other rich men might have dismissed a lecture that privacy ought to be respected.

Floriana smiled up at the man the club all loved enough to come out on a freezing autumn day in the hopes of catching a glimpse. Lost for words, she threw her arms around his biceps in a hug, wobbling a little on legs that complained she should have put them up to rest by now. One second went by, two, three, before she released the frozen man, a little misty-eyed.

“Right,” Mr. Stark said once liberated, straightening his jacket. “I, ah, wanted to give you a small thank-you gift.”

With a happy gasp, she accepted the limited edition Iron Man super tough shopper with gold accents which shone in the hesitant sunlight. She tested its collapsible handle, lifted it to finger the four go-every-way lockable wheels. “I'll cherish it,” she said.

He nodded at her old bag, collapsed, half-hidden under a table. “I can see that.”

Another round of handshakes between the superheroes and the New York branch of the IM Spotter club. When the pair left, the club members traded disbelieving glances. “Please tell me we recorded everything,” said Patrick.

“I caught most of the discussion,” said Eddie, the club's video editor, with great satisfaction, “I'm going to be busy for weeks and months.”

“Board meeting tomorrow about what we're putting out. Please share nothing until then,” She glared all dissatisfied grumbling into submission. “However, all contributions are welcome once we've set some ground rules and likely to get a lot of traffic,” she reminded them. “So let's make it look good, hm?”

She ensured the irregulars' cooperation. They didn't mind and she went inside, only to discover the bill had already been settled. As had every bill for the next five years.

That man. That charming, courageous, infuriating man. She chuckled.

And now he'd announced his successor. Well.

Perhaps she'd have to put a name change on the agenda for the board meeting tomorrow. IM Spotters wouldn’t be accurate for much longer.

Floriana limped back to pack up the tablecloths and poinsettias in her brand new shopper, jubilant.


End file.
